His First Time
by Viva La Vie Boheme 1991
Summary: A series of oneshots, dealing with Roger’s firsts, from his first day of school to his first time shooting up with April, though not in any chronological order. Chp.2: Roger’s first time on stage isn’t under the ideal situation, but it’ll do.
1. Shooting Up

**His First Time Series**

**Shooting Up**

Summary: A series of one-shots, dealing with Roger's firsts, from his first day of school to his first time shooting up with April, though not in any chronological order. Chp.1: Shooting Up. Rated for slight language, drug-use, and Roger's thoughts at one point.

A/N: I was inspired to write this while watching the movie, as I usually am inspired by the movie, during One Song Glory, the 7-second shot that shows Roger and April in an alley in the rain, shooting up. I have no idea what happens when you shoot up, nevertheless for the first time, so that portion of the fic might be a little off. I hope you read, enjoy, and review!

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT, I merely borrow the characters and let them have more of an opportunity to be seen.

The saying "think before you act" never seemed to get through to Roger.

When he saw her at his show that first night, he knew they were destined to be together. A small part of him knew it was dangerous, sure, that it was bound to end completely wrong, but Roger had always considered himself a live-for-the-moment kind of guy. The kind of guy that lived for the natural high of things, like going onstage and performing, that rush of adrenaline that he just couldn't resist.

Of course, that also meant that he got himself into things without thinking about the consequences. Roger had always made rash decisions, much like the one he was about to make.

"Come here," she whispered in his ear, several weeks after their first meeting. He, being blinded by love, since that was how he viewed it, love, eagerly followed. What he will remember more than anything at a later date is that it was raining that night as she sat down on the high curb in the alley, gesturing for him to kneel down in front of her.

His first thoughts were that it should have been the other way around, with her kneeling in front of him, but he dug his mind out of the gutter for once. As she rummaged through her purse, he watched for a moment in confusion before deciding to focus on the single drop of rain that stubbornly clung to the one lock of bleached blonde hair which fell in his eyes.

After what seemed like an eternity, the drop fell, and April emerged from her pocketbook with a needle, a small plastic bag with some kind of white substance inside it, and a long strip of gauze.

"April?" he question, puzzled at the sight of these items. Now, he knew what these items were, several of his band mates shot up. However, that sort of thing had really never been for him. She shushed him as she prepared the needle, then tied the gauze around her arm, above her elbow, and held her arm out straight. She slapped her arm in quick succession, searching for a vein.

He looked into her eyes for a brief moment, grabbing hold of her hand, before they simultaneously looked down. Roger could only stare in mixed wonder and horror as she finally slipped the needle into the vein. He looked back up to see an expression of pure bliss on April's face, her eyes practically rolling to the top of her head.

After a few minutes, April finally looked at Roger.

"Your turn, babe," she smiled, untying the gauze from her arm. His eyes widened slightly and he began to stammer.

"I, uh, I mean, Ape… I really shouldn't… I'm not into…" but she was already tying the gauze around his bare, unscathed arm.

"You're always so tense, Rog," she purred, staring into his eyes as their faces came dangerously close. "This'll help you loosen up."

Roger wanted to argue that he was plenty loose; didn't she see him on stage? This thought was quickly banished as her lips brushed gently against his and he found himself leaning forward to deepen the kiss. She was already back to her task, though, and he was left with his neck outstretched and eyes closed, longing for more.

When he realized that she wasn't obliging, he opened his eyes and watched her prepare the needle, mind fuzzy from the buzz he got from her simple kiss. In the back of his mind, he knew how much drugs could fuck you up; hell, look at Mark when he simply got drunk! He was enticed by her kiss as she pecked him on the lips once more, and all thoughts of protest were gone.

He didn't even notice that she had slipped the needle in until he realized that it was a sharp prick of pain he was feeling in his arm. His immediate reaction was anger, and he instantly regretted letting her do this. Before he could say anything, his common sense was gone, replaced by that state of euphoria he was always living for when he got on stage.

It didn't matter that she hadn't really asked him if he wanted this, or that he knew it was wrong and he shouldn't have done it. It didn't matter that when he went home to the loft later he would hear Mark's disappointed, and possibly hurt, voice say quietly, "You're high…" or that Collins was ready to kick the shit out of him when he found out about it the next day. It didn't matter that this would lead him down a long road from which it's hard to return or, coming back to the present, that it was raining. Roger was gone, on a different plane, never to return to his former self again. A hollow shell of it, maybe, but his former glory was gone, and he'd spend a long time searching for it again.

Much later in time, as he lay in bed, in agony from withdrawal, he would think bitterly that the sky had been crying that night.

The first time Roger Davis shot up, the very skies themselves were crying for the loss of yet another innocent soul.


	2. Rocking the House

**His First Time Series**

**Rocking the House**

Summary: A series of one-shots, dealing with Roger's firsts, from his first day of school to his first time shooting up with April, though not in any chronological order. Chp.2: Roger's first time on stage isn't under the ideal situation, but it'll do. Rated for language, Maureen's general nature, and the actions towards one poor camera.

A/N: Well, here's the second chapter, a week later than I anticipated, dealing with Roger's first performance. Maureen and Mark are also featured, and I hope I portrayed them all well for their age.

Disclaimer: RENT belongs to the late Jonathon Larson, and thus there is fanfiction. I also don't own _Rhyme and Reason_ by Adam Pascal.

He dreamed that his first performance would be a grander affair than this. There'd be bright lights on him; he'd be the center of attention. Out in the crowd, there would be hundreds of people screaming his name… especially girls. Oh, yes, especially girls. He'd have his own fan group backstage, gushing about how awesome he was, and assuring him he was the best. That he was a rock god.

Instead the lights would be on many people, not just him. It was a crowd of maybe a hundred people tops, he hadn't really bothered counting. Mark always did stupid shit like that, counting how many people were watching him. Around him milled a lot of people, but not fans. No, there were kids practicing magic tricks, dancing, and doing other mundane things he tuned his brand new fender guitar he had gotten for his birthday. Although, at the age of fourteen, what else could Roger possibly have expected from the school talent show?

"December 14th, 1979, 6:50 P.M. Eastern Standard Time. Close up on Roger, who's tuning his new fender guitar, preparing for his first performance. Judging by the fact that he is continuously playing Musetta's Waltz, it would seem that young Mr. Davis is nervous for this performance.

"Now turning the focus to Maureen Johnson so that I don't have to get a new camera _again_, based on the hostile look Roger's giving me," Mark narrated, glaring back at Roger as if to say, 'You touch the camera, you die.' Maureen squealed as she heard her name.

"Oh, Marky! I'm so glad you're going to get my performance on film. I mean, you _did_ have to miss the last one thanks to Roger," Maureen shot a glare her friend's way as well, to which he rolled his eyes.

"I gave him fair warning to get that fucking camera out of my face," Roger claimed indignantly, playing a few chords of the songs he was going to play.

"Didn't mean you had to fling it in the water of the fountain of the park, and then pick it up smash it against the tree," Mark grumbled, his and the camera's focus on Maureen. Roger merely shrugged, his own focus on his music.

"The thing deserved it. It was possessed," Roger muttered.

Mark rolled his eyes as he caught Maureen practicing her tap dance on film. She _had_ wanted to show off her talents as a protester, but just protesting that she couldn't protest had gotten her detention. Only Maureen could manage to do this, of course, the boys had agreed.

"An inanimate object cannot be possessed," Maureen stated, screwing up a step and groaning and frustration. Roger snorted.

"Yes, they can, Maureen, don't you know anything? Haven't you ever heard of haunted houses where shit follows you everywhere?"

Maureen stuck her tongue out and signed "fuck you" at him a moment before one of the teachers came over to tell her that she was on next. She squealed in delight once more, all anger towards Roger seemingly forgotten, and grabbed Mark's hand.

"Marky, you have to go in the audience now!" Maureen shoved Mark in that general direction and he stumbled, warranting another snort from Roger.

"Yeah, go in the audience, Marky," Roger taunted.

Mark wrinkled his nose and glared once more at Roger before disappearing beyond the curtain to the stairs. If anyone didn't know them, and watched the three, they would think they hated each other. But in reality, the three were best friends. They sniped at each other, sure, but it was always joking around. Well, Mark really was pissed off that Roger broke his camera, and Maureen had been very mad that Mark had been unable to film her last performance, but Roger _had_ warned Mark…

They could do that, though, say and do things that angered the other without meaning a thing. That's just how they were.

Finally satisfied that his guitar was tuned, Roger went to the side of the stage to watch Maureen. She got about halfway through her routine before she screwed up, an audible, "Fuck!" escaping her lips. The audience gasped, and Maureen looked up, as if surprised they had heard her. Roger was already struggling not to laugh as he waited for what he knew was coming. Maureen strode up to the microphone, shoes clacking against the floor as she walked, and grabbed it off the stand.

"There's something I'd like to say. Everyone hears curse word and thinks 'Wow, that was rude,' or 'I can't believe they just said that.' Look at the facts, people: everyone curses! It's an injustice that people look down on us when we curse, when they themselves do it! We need to stand up and stop this injustice and just _curse_. _Be free to curse!_ Just say, 'fuck,' and don't give a damn with other people think. And-"

Maureen was cut short as an angry teacher finally managed to rip the microphone from her, a struggle that had been on-going since Maureen had stated that everyone curses. Her shouts had increased in volume as she went on, to make sure her voice was heard.

"What did we tell you the other day, Miss Johnson?" the male, balding teacher hissed. "Get backstage, and go straight to the principal's office Monday morning! Your parents will certainly be hearing about this one!"

Maureen merely shrugged and turned to face the audience, who was waiting in stunned silence. She took a deep, theatrical bow, earning some scattered applause and laughs. She stood up straight and smirked, winking at Mark as she flipped her hair and sauntered offstage. Mark's face was beet red as he made his way backstage as well, hearing a few cat-calls as a result of Maureen's wink and departure.

As soon as he was past the curtains he found his two best friends laughing hysterically.

"Oh, man!" Roger gasped out. "You should've seen all the teachers' faces back here, Mo! Jeez, you'd think they'd have learned by now, that you're not just going to conform to their standards."

Maureen's laughter calmed to giggles.

"I know, seriously! By the way, thanks for giving me the idea, Rog."

Mark looked from Roger to Mo and back again.

"You _knew_ she was going to do this?" he squeaked, "You even suggested it?" His two friends merely shrugged, and Mark's eyes grew impossibly wider.

"B-but, do you have any idea how much trouble you're going to be in?"

Maureen chuckled and laid her hand on Mark's shoulder, "The small price to pay for anarchy, Marky."

Roger snickered at Mark's face, which was turning a distinct red, one which the other two knew all too well. Mark continued to stand there, flustered, as another teacher came over and informed Roger he was on soon. She walked off, but not before sending a warning look Maureen's way as if to say no more funny business.

Roger's stomach flipped, his time had come. He was going to go out there and show them all the rock star that he was going to be one day. That he was now. He hadn't let anyone hear his song before tonight, insisting that it wasn't ready yet, and that they'd have to wait for the ultimate unveiling at the talent show. Though Maureen pouted and Mark had tried to coax Roger into playing it, he hadn't given in. Now it was time to play that song.

"Wish me luck, guys!" he gave them a cheeky grin and walked towards the stage, Mark nodding before going to his prior spot out in the audience, and Maureen whispering, "Good luck!"

"And now, singing a song on his guitar, I'd like to introduce Roger Davis!" the teacher at the mike said before getting off the stage. Roger took a deep breath and walked out to the center, where he promptly sat on a stool they had set up for him. Sitting up onstage, Roger realized that there were definitely more than one hundred people out there. After plugging his guitar into the amp they had also placed out there, and adjusting the microphone to his level, he grinned at the audience.

"Hey everybody, I'm going to sing you a song tonight that I wrote myself called _Rhyme and Reason_. Hope you enjoy."

With the simple statement said, Roger focused on his guitar. His eyes closed, as was his nature, and he allowed the music to just flow through him.

"_It's so cold  
Let's take flight  
Well, we won't need a net  
Hold on tight  
A new ride  
Is unveiled  
And we don't need to try  
So there's no way to fail_

A desperate look in our eyes  
Holding on to one another  
Holding on for all our lives  
Just letting go to discover  
Oh-h yeah  
Oh-h ooh

It's okay  
To realize  
Being born into nothing, no one and nowhere  
It's all a surprise

A desperate look in our eyes  
Holding on to one another  
Holding on for all our lives  
Just letting go to discover

That love don't need a reason  
And love don't need a rhyme  
I'm standing here pleading  
While you just cover your eyes  
Yeah-ah-ah

A desperate look in our eyes  
Holding on to one another  
Holding on for all our lives  
Just letting go to discover

That love don't need a reason  
And love don't need a rhyme  
Said love don't need a reason  
And love don't need a rhyme  
I'm standing here pleading  
While you just cover your eyes  
Yeah-ah-ah  
Ooh-ooh-ohh

It's so cold  
Let's take flight  
It's so cold  
Hold on tight."

Roger opened his eyes to look out at the audience as he finished. There was silence for a moment and his heart practically stopped. Had they hated it?

His qualms were found to be false a moment later as loud applause and whistles broke out throughout the room. Grinning widely as he hopped off the stool Roger held up a hand as if to wave to the crowd.

"Thank you!" he yelled over the noise. He unplugged his guitar from the amp and walked offstage, the applause not stopping for the longest time.

"That was great, Rog!" shrieked Maureen, and Roger found himself nearly being thrown to the ground as Maureen tackled him with a hug, just barely able to shove his guitar behind him to protect in time.

"Yeah, it was brilliant, man," Mark grinned as he came over to the two, winding his camera as he did so.

"You really think so?" he asked anxiously, valuing his friends' input a lot more than the audience's.

"Definitely," Mark and Mo said in unison. Roger grinned stupidly beside himself.

"Thanks, guys. That means the world."

Roger had expected his first show to be characterized by hot, bright lights, girls, and hundreds of screaming fans. He got the hot lights, and even wound up with the screaming fans. Sure he didn't get the girls- well, besides Maureen, but she didn't really count- but what else could he have expected from a school talent show?

Nevertheless, as he spent time laughing and discussing it with his friends after the fact, he realized he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

A/N: I'm sorry it took two weeks for this chapter, but I had the end of school, and Math and History regents, so it took me a while to get around to editing it. I was going to attempt to write a song myself, but then I was listening to _Model Prisoner_ and thought, "Wait, why not use one of Adam's songs?" It's definitely way better than anything I could ever come up with, and Adam is my favorite Roger (I have heard others sing as Roger, but no one could ever beat Adam Pascal). So, I put it in, hope you guys liked this. I'm working on Muffy and the next chapter of this right now, but the next three days will be devoted to Chemistry review for the regents on Wednesday, so I don't know when I'll be done with them. Don't forget to review!


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